


Noetics

by lafillechanceuse



Series: breathe on the way home [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Non-Specific Inquisitor, Post-Redcliffe Mages Allied, Rare Pairings, Rare Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, hand kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafillechanceuse/pseuds/lafillechanceuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivienne goes for a walk to cool her head after the events of Redcliffe and the Iron Bull accompanies her. </p>
<p>Mild spoilers for In Your Heart Shall Burn if your Inquisitor sided with the mages, but they are a non-entity in this work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noetics

_Unbelievable._

Absolutely _unbelievable_.

The way the advisers have handled the situation _boggles_ the mind.

How in the Maker’s name could they not rectify a decision so reckless, so fraught with complications? The Inquisitor would leave every blind spot welcome and ready for any demons who had decided to take advantage of their unique situation to storm Thedas until nothing remained. Vivienne fumed at her desk, their fearless leader having run off after stubbornly standing by their decision and resolving none of her concerns. Any hope of being able to focus correspondence or research had evaporated with an entire conversation. The fact that they both agreed that magic was dangerous only exasperated her further. What sort of leader lacked the foresight to contemplate the consequences their people would undoubtedly suffer? Did her title, her years of work gaining it mean nothing to them?

The weight of the anxiety bore down, hung heavy and thick, threatening to suffocate her carefully orchestrated composure. Setting her quill down and cleaning it with a practiced hand that only slightly trembled, she stood, wrapping her cloak about her shoulders. She needed some air. Her letters to the court could wait until tomorrow morning to go out with the rest of their inquiries. Their brave stand against the king of Ferelden supporting the rebel mages as full-fledged allies would keep the Orlesians tittering behind their gilded fans for the next fortnight.

A blast of cold air threatened to freeze her already wooden expression as she stalked out into the northern wind. Dreadful, positively dreadful of them to claim this wretched frozen tundra as the Inquisition’s headquarters. Hunching her shoulders and adjusting the fur ruff when no one was looking, she walked down both sets of stairs and out in front of the walls where Commander Cullen was training the new recruits. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss and she deemed Haven under control well enough not to miss her for a few hours. Squaring her shoulders, she began to walk south, following one of the paths that the soldiers had shoveled and scraped clear of snow.

How could they know, she thought, automatically planning her next approach. The Inquisitor had never experienced the benefits of a proper circle, not like that wretched hive of abuse in Kirkwall. They just needed a proper model was all. If she could show them what they were missing, surely they would understand. Without the knowledge of Harrowing, how dangerous demons could be might elude even the sharpest of minds and for them to get this far meant they could not possibly be beyond hope.

Vivienne was not lost enough in her thoughts, however, to note the soft but unmistakably solid footsteps behind her. Head snapping round, her hand went to her staff before she saw who it was.

“An evening stroll, ma’am?”

The Iron Bull inquired, standing a few yards back at a respectful distance. His hands were raised, palms open in a conciliatory gesture. “Dangerous to walk alone with the demons in the area, even if you look like you need it.”

A brow arched in his direction, an underlying brittleness threatening to sour her gilded authoritative tone. “And how would you know I currently require some privacy, Iron Bull?”

“The whole damn camp’s unsettled,” he said plainly. “Doesn’t take Ben-Hassrath training to figure that out. No one was expecting that out of the Inquisitor, not even the mages themselves. Now, all that’s left is to seal the giant hole in the sky and like hell anyone knows if it’ll work and what comes next.” His gaze leveled with hers and softened. “You’re our best, ma’am. We can’t afford to lose you.”

An unexpected fluttering in her stomach stirred and she hastily tamped it down. Maker, she was no blushing virgin straight out of the Circle after her Harrowing. This was nothing short of embarrassing. She had taken lovers, of course, but no one had gotten that reaction out of her other than Bastien and that in itself presented a host of issues she had neither the energy nor patience to deal with. “I see.”

“If you’d prefer me as I was, Madame de Fer, I can wait for you to go ahead and follow without a word.”

Vivienne sniffed, considering her options. If he was quiet, it might not be such a distraction to have him. After all, she needed someone to break the wind blowing west. “You may walk beside me, Bull.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As promised, they walked in silence. He kept pace with her easily, shortening his great, loping strides in order not to rush her. Snow blew past them, pine trees swaying slowly in the distance. Her inhale and exhale matched their rhythm and gradually, the tension eased out of her shoulders. She refused to slump on principle. Good posture was a must and years of conditioning not to bow in relief, to expose any weakness in court or within the Circle held, but she was acutely aware of the hand prepared to steady her that Bull shifted to just behind her back, his fingertips barely brushing the fabric.

“I was the best.”

She stated, surprised at how easily the words flowed from her mouth. “I am aware that’s no surprise, but everyone thought the world of me. I was brash in the way only youth can be, arrogant in my confidence. I went into my Harrowing prepared to have the demon they threw at me on its knees, kissing my feet.”

The cruel laughter in her head, at the edges of her hearing gave her pause a moment and Bull’s hand came to rest on her lower back with a gossamer touch unexpected of a seven foot horned Qunari mercenary.

“I almost died.”

Vivienne blurted out, then cursed herself for not couching it in terms impersonal enough to distance herself. ‘It almost killed me’, that would have been the proper response, not the raw, bold truth she had so gladly offered up to a Ben-Hassrath like a stuffed goose on a silver platter. The demon cackled in glee. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pushed forward, steeling her voice again.

“I was glad of the scars it left. I would not make the same mistake twice.”

When had they stopped walking? Who had stopped first?

The wind whipping up a frenzy ended the silence between them and Bull moved to her other side to break it. With a wry smile, he glanced down at the brace on his left ankle and offered up his left hand for a proper look at the scarred and missing fingers. “Youth and arrogance have a lot to answer for.” He wiggled them, then offered her his right arm. Her hand nearly disappeared under his bicep as they started again.

“You ever heard of Seheron?”

She nodded and it prompted a grim chuckle. “Kind of hard not to. Between the ‘Vints, the rebels, and the Tal-Vashoth, you’d think demons wouldn’t have any elbow room to terrorize the poor bastards unlucky enough to live there.” Suddenly, the demon spoke again, conjuring up a different voice, a younger voice that trembled with the weight of the truth it was abruptly forced to confront.

_If it gets in my head, how do I cut it out? Tama, I’m **scared** … _

Vivienne resisted the urge to gasp. Bull searched her face for clues, his lone eye scanning her features with a practiced air for an explanation as to what had caused her to tense again. “Ah.” He fell silent again to ponder the matter, choosing his words carefully before he spoke again. “The demons…they don’t ever stop, do they?”

She shook her head.

Another pause, another deliberate silence broken with a cough meant to ease the transition. Slowly, missing fingers curling underneath the middle digit that bore an ugly scar, the Iron Bull gestured to his temple.

“Neither do these.”

The transparent meaning intertwined with the frightened echo of his memory. For once, the demons on the edges of her hearing had fallen silent. What words of comfort, what useless platitudes could they offer each other? Vivienne was dimly aware that their gazes had progressively softened, that they looked at each other how lovers would, creating an intimacy dangerous to both worlds they inhabited.

And yet….and yet who else would offer them the luxury of these stolen moments? Who else could be trusted not to hold this brief sharing of the weight of the burdens they carried against them? If only now, if only for a moment, they could have this. Her breath came slowly, unintentionally matching the rise and fall of her companion’s chest.

_They could have this._

She led, starting to walk again, and he followed suit obediently. Neither begrudged the quiet of the wilderness as they continued their stroll back towards Haven. The calm was different now, almost companionable, a promise tucked underneath its tongue held close for safekeeping. The Iron Bull paused before they could be seen from the outside of Haven, gently dislodging her hand and nudging her forward.

“You should go first, ma’am. I’ll watch and wait until you’ve safely returned to the chantry.”

“We don’t want people to talk,” she agreed, reflexively smoothing her skirts down and adjusting the cloak. “It wouldn’t do for a simple stroll to ruin the reputation of the Inquisition’s inner circle, if you could call our current standing in Orlais and Ferelden a reputation.”

The corners of his lips quirked slightly upward. “You mean the unmitigated disdain and horror we’ve worked so hard to establish?”

“Precisely, my dear. If we got any worse, the Chantry would simply topple. A careless child could knock it over and easily strew the pieces of what little standing it has left across the far corners of Thedas.”

Her chest ached when he laughed. Vivienne sobered, unsure of what exactly the proper protocol was for this situation. It didn’t merit a curtsey and obsequiously flattering pleasantries, but nonetheless, he deserved something for his efforts. “…Thank you, Iron Bull.”

“For what, ma’am?”

“For the pleasure of your company.” No, that didn’t sound quite right. Neither did thanking for being there. “For indulging me in a moment of weakness,” she finally settled on. “I do hope you weren’t too inconvenienced.” They stood on the edge of their worlds. “The thought of it seems almost criminal.”

“I wasn’t,” he replied. Before she could register it, the Iron Bull swept into a low bow, mindful of his horns as he gently took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Stubble scratched softly against her skin as he kissed her knuckles. “And I would be gladly inconvenienced for your sake, madam, were it a crime.”

Stunned speechless, she could only watch as he lowered and let go of her hand with a warm smile.

“Good night, Vivienne.”

A smile, a rare sight, of her own graced her features as she inclined her head to him.

“Good night, Bull.”

The gates shut behind her, but her spirits refused to be dampened, rejecting the notion of a cage. Clutching her cloak as she made her way up the stairs, Vivenne shook her head. What a strange eastern wind this was that stirred up warmth that radiated through her chest and brightened her cheeks, something fluttering in her stomach that she barely remembered and had thought long since gone.  

**Author's Note:**

> _You might think you are not thinking, but you are._   
>  _A thought moves from dirt up through me and if I do not disabuse it, it grows._   
>  _To suffer, to bear from below._   
>  _Coming down the mountain I could see a reservoir through the trees, fat and glowing._   
>  _You are alone in your one life and no one will enter your dreams._   
>  _Teenagers sit on the sign outside the nunnery._   
>  _We are so afraid of failing we can't live._   
>  _So we leave apartments, not breathing, breathe on the way home._   
>  _~Emily Kendal Frey~_   
> 


End file.
